Metamorphosis
by dumbledearme
Summary: It's a time of peace in Panem. But having no war doesn't mean people are happy or safe. Hunger strikes the poorer districts like 11 and 12 and no one seems to be doing anything about it. Effie Trinket, from 12, is finally given a chance to help her people. But it might cost her everything she is. Where do you draw the line? Where do you quit being a pawn? #Hayffie
1. Uno

If you like Hunger Games and The Selection, this is for you. I sort of mixed the two stories together and added Hayffie to make us fangirl really hard.

My casting is:

 **Effie** \- _Teresa Palmer_

 **Haymitch** \- _Jesse Eisenberg_

 **Plutarch** \- _Jai Courtney_

I'll add more as the story moves along. Hope you guys like it. Review me.

* * *

METAMORPHOSIS OR HOW TO TURN A GIRL WHO HAS NOTHING INTO SOMEONE WHO HAS EVERYTHING

* * *

Effie stood near the mines watching the workers come and go. They were all sweaty, dirty, smelly, but to her they looked damn beautiful. The sweat made their skin glow, the hard labor made their eyes shine. It was like there was nothing else in the world: only their efforts and her inclination to go down there and help.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" her mother came rushing, her oily skirts moving from one side to the other as she moved her legs in that aggressive march of hers. "Haven't I told you you can't be here? You're gonna get in their way, Effie. Or worse."

"What could be worse than that?"

Her mother gave her that condescending look. "They might think you're... _offering_ yourself."

"Well, I might be. I do want to help them! And I should be able to. I have good strong arms. I could carry at least-"

"That is not what I meant."

The realization came slowly. Effie's eyes widened. Her hand twitched.

The mother sighed. "Oh, Effie. The Seam is no place for a girl."

"Where is my place? Behind the stove? Wasting away in that house with that bastard that does nothing to help you-"

"Don't talk about your father-"

"Cleitus isn't my father!"

"He is! And he's good to us. He... Well, Cleitus might not be the best of men, but he certainly-"

"-is one of the worst. You are blind, mom. You can't see it. If you could... you wouldn't leave me alone with him. The way he looks at me, he'll soon-"

The slap came fast, hard, sharp. But that wasn't the first nor would it be the last. Effie looked down; she didn't care to see the regret that always took over her mother's face after moments like this. Regret paid for nothing. Effie couldn't do anything with regret.

"You can't say these things about your father, Effie. It isn't right. Now go home. We have work to do."

"Cleaning after that pig isn't work."

"But it's all you're gonna get," her mother snapped. "I'm sorry if your life is such a disappointment. I did the best I could. I can see you'll never be satisfied with what you have. You'll keep those big dreams of going to the Capitol, of escaping this poverty, but that's all they are, Effie. _Dreams_. Reality is here and now. Accept it and it might hurt less."

"Are you going to stand there chatting all day?" Cleitus called from a distance. Even from afar, Effie could smell him: alcohol and the putrid smell of cigarettes. Her stomach twisted.

"I want distance from that man," said Effie ignoring her mother's promises that Cleitus was her father. That wasn't the true. Both of them knew it. Her mother had that little wood box, her most precious possessions, the one she kept hidden under the kitchen sink. More times than not Effie caught her crying over that box. She didn't know what was inside, but she was sure it was about her father. "And I won't spend the rest of my life working in that bar of his. You know what he does. Sells drugs and cigarettes to people. Keeps the money to himself. And we work our asses for nothing so he can keep up with his drinking."

"I need you to help me, Effie," pleaded her mom suddenly looking very small. It was a marvelous thing how small people, instead of making Effie feel big, made her feel tiny. She shrunk into almost nothing, nodded and followed her mother back to _Pieter's_.

* * *

Serving tables was definitely not a dream job. Effie went from one side to the other in the bar, refilling glasses of beer, serving a dozen sandwiches to the buns who lived in that part of District 12. They talked loudly, they burped and they just couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

Effie grabbed a butter knife and threatened Marcus Davis with it. It was always him and his hand on her ass. She had reported the fat man a thousand times but no one ever did anything about it. "If you touch me again, I'll cut you."

The idiot had the nerve to look offended. "What is wrong with you, kid?" he asked. How could Effie ever answer him? How could she explain to the man with a boner, who just called you kid after grabbing your ass, that pedophilia was a crime?

"You touch me again, I'll cut off your hand and the thing you have between your legs that barely works anymore since your wife left you, Mr Davis."

Marcus Davis's face turned bright red. He immediately called Cleitus to fight his battles for him.

"Aurelia!" Cleitus shouted. "You have to control this girl! The client is always right, ain't it?"

"You don't like it?" Effie threw the knife at his feet and he danced around it pathetically trying to avoid it. "Find another poor soul that'll work for free. I dare you."

"Effie," said her mother in that tone of voice she used as a warning. "Enough. Take the trash out for me, will you?"

Effie did as she was told. She always did as she was told.

It was already dark outside. Effie put the trash in the can and decided to take the rest of the night out. Maybe sleep near the clearing. Anywhere that wasn't home. Anywhere she didn't have to be afraid.

* * *

School was a mixture of excitement and fear. Effie enjoyed learning new things, but most of all, she loved learning about the history of the districts. District 3 definitely had the smartest people and District 5 was perhaps the most essential one there was. But her favorite was District 9.

When Effie was very little she had had a dream. She was outside and there were no fences. The sun was rising, everything looked so orange. As she walked between the fields of crops, she felt like she was walking on the sun. Everything was warm and beautiful.

She knew exactly why it held such a fascination. The teacher was very thorough in her lesson. The one fact that could be said about District 9: _they had food_.

"Wholesome food produced from nature is the cornerstone of a healthy Panem," the teacher had said all those years ago. "District 9 cultivates and mills the most nutrient-rich grain possible and takes pride in providing this fertile harvest to our nation. In Panem's bread bowl, real nutrition and a thriving country live hand in hand."

That was the most beautiful thing Effie could think of. A land where you don't go hungry. Someplace where the pain in your stomach didn't exist, didn't stop you from sleeping. A land where _we have for us, and we have for all._

"Are you listening to me, Miss Trinket?" the teacher asked. Someone nudged Effie on the side bringing her to the present.

"Hmm? Yes."

The teacher made a face of one who didn't believe. "What was I saying?"

"She wasn't listening," said someone from the back of the classroom. "She was thinking about how we're all so hungry to pay attention to you, Miss Janine. And I have to say, she has a point." As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly. Some of the kids laughed.

 _Haymitch Abernathy._ How Effie despised him and at the same time... No, she despised him alright. He was tall, blonde, thin, arrogant – Effie could spend the entire day listing the things he was. He sat there with that stupid grin on his face like he had said something extremely smart that deserved applause of something. As if. Like she needed his help with anything.

Then again, she had been thinking along those lines, hadn't she? She wanted to feed her people. She wanted their lives to be better. Was it all a coincidence, what he had said and what she had been thinking? Was it because they were, indeed, all hungry? Or did he somehow just knew?

"Don't start with me, Mr Abernathy," said the teacher, "or I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, please, do." _More laughter_. What a clown.

Miss Janine chose to ignore him. A wise choice, Effie thought.

"I was saying, Miss Trinket, no citizen is too young to support the constructive efforts of the Mining District, and in turn, the gallant efforts of Panem."

"Yes, they are making a difference, aren't they? We work, they eat," said Haymitch with sarcasm.

"The Capitol channels their hope and optimism toward Panem's peaceful future."

"It'll be incredibly peaceful," he said with indifference, "when there's no more people."

* * *

Effie got out of there with Haymitch Abernathy's words still in her head. The cheek of that boy. And yet... no truer words were ever spoken. Outside the school, she found herself face to face with a poster of the Capitol's propaganda about coal mining. _Their pride_ _and commitment is truly_ _the warmth and light of our lives!_ , it said.

"Their pride and commitment will get us all killed," said Haymitch from behind her.

Effie sighed. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

He seemed to think about it. "No. Now say, Trinket, how about we go to Greasy Sue and-"

"Can't. I'm busy."

"Doing what? And don't say washing your hair. We both know you haven't washed that in years."

"Maybe I should. It's getting kind of itchy." That made him smiled. "Besides, anything to get you to leave me alone."

Haymitch pretended to be offended. He placed his right hand above his heart and made a pained face. "You're killing me."

Effie rolled her eyes. "Haymitch, seriously, I have work to do."

"Not today," he said smiling like someone who holds the key to another world. "Didn't you hear? Today everyone needs to be at the Square."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Something or other."

Effie looked around. Everyone was, in fact, moving toward the Square. Thinking she'd better follow, she turned her back at Haymitch. But he couldn't take a hint. She could feel him walking behind her.

The Square was packed when they arrived. It was a large space but not large enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers like them were directed to the adjacent streets, where they could watch the event on screens at it was televised live by the state.

There was a temporary stage set up before the Justice Building and a group of around twelve strangers from the Capitol. Two of them were by the podium: a short weird looking man with a blond wig and a taller one who looked absolutely rich.

"Welcome," said the short one in a booming voice. "I'm Claudius Templesmith and this is my very good friend, Plutarch Heavensbee. We come to you with a proposition; one that you must have heard of already. The Project Metamorphosis."

Effie had heard about that but she couldn't quite remember what it was. Haymitch made a _tsking_ sound beside her.

"I wanna get closer," she told him.

Haymitch didn't look pleased. "Of course you do." He grabbed her hand and guided her through the crowd while Claudius Templesmith spoke.

"Our program is looking for a girl to be the face of our country. We want someone with potential, someone who can speak, walk and act as an example of all the good things we have in Panem. All of your girls are invited to try out. Every age, every color, every style."

The Square was surrounded by shops and there were bright banners hanging on the buildings. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops were filming the crowd as much as the stage. When they got near a short wall, Haymitch took Effie by the waist and lifted her up. She stood high on the wall where she could see everyone, everything. The camera man beside her turned the camera at her.

"What are you doing, girl?"

"Just wanna watch the show," she explained. The man shook his head and that was when someone shouted, _"Stop!"_ Effie looked up just in time to see her surprised, dirty face showing in the big screens of District 12. Her hair was almost brown and looking like a rat's nest. Her skin was pale, ugly. But her blue eyes were large as she saw herself and they kind of looked like stars.

The man who had shouted was the young Plutarch Heavensbee. He wasn't looking at the screens – he was looking directly at her from across the Square. Then he moved, came her way, pushing people aside, until he was right in front of the wall. He reached out his hand as an offering. Hesitantly, Effie took it and he helped her down.

"You're beautiful," he said touching her hair. Effie slapped his hand away, her heart racing. Plutarch raised both hands in surrender. "I mean you no harm. This is my job," he gestured around to the big event. "And you are... gorgeous."

Effie had only the vague idea that everyone in the Square was watching them. She couldn't take her eyes from the stranger. He looked like the prince charming from on of those books Ingrid liked to read before bed. Was this a joke? Or did he mean it? Did he really find her... gorgeous? _Oh, yeah, right, as if..._

"Yes, you are," he insisted as if reading her mind. "You look clean, fresh, young." He studied her attentively, then said, "I want you to sign your name on the Metamorphosis program. I want you to be the face of Panem."

* * *

Do you guys like it? Should I keep going?


	2. Due

_Grains were among man's first crops, tolerating harsh environments and offering versatility in cooking. Ancient civilizations believed that grains were so important that each particular grain was said to be a gift from the gods._

Effie stared at the book; she had read that same paragraph seven times already. But the words weren't making any sense. Nothing made any sense.

 _Today, wheat, rye, barley, corn, oats, and spelt are just a handful of the many glorious grains grown in District 9. Packed with flavor and affordability, these healthy foods are a culinary jewel._

Closing the book with a sigh, she got up from the desk and went out the library saying goodbye to the clerk lady at the front door.

People were staring, she noticed. But at least they didn't say anything. It'd been like this all week, ever since Plutarch Heavensbee had asked her to sign her name to the Metamorphosis program.

Of course Effie had refused. _Like she wanted to be the face of Panem!_ She wouldn't ever work for those men. Those were the people keeping others hungry. Making they work and not rewarding them fairly. Those were the people she hated. And Effie would not be bought.

Even though they were offering a pretty good deal...

"There she is," said Haymitch catching up with her near the Square. "If it isn't Miss Panem."

 _He_ was certainly enjoying this way too much.

"I saw your newest admirer," he told her. "Walking around like he's lived here his entire life. I think he likes 12. Well, not more than he likes you, that's for sure."

Effie rolled her eyes. It was true, Plutarch was trying way too hard on this. All his other friends had gone back to the Capitol, but not him. He sworn he would stay in 12 until he got Effie to sign his papers. He was sure he could convince her which made her furious at him and even more determined to refuse. It didn't make a difference as far as she was concerned, him being around, but it did get people's attention.

"He doesn't like me," she clarified. "He thinks I'm pretty. It's different."

"Not to me."

Effie stopped her march to glare at him but Haymitch seemed oblivious to her astonishment.

"Do you know when he's leaving?" he asked.

"When I agree to go with him."

"Which you won't."

"No."

Haymitch gave her a very different smile from the ones he usually did. It was a good smile. A secret smile, just for her. He should always smile like this, Effie thought. It made look handsome... She had never taken the time to notice him, to really notice him.

"Well, goldie, then we need to make our next move."

"We?"

He nodded. "I'm going to help you."

"What can you do for me?"

"I can get rid of him. Tonight. Meet me near the clearing around midnight. Rich boy won't know what hit him," and he grinned diabolically. Haymitch turned around, ready to leave, but something made him stop. He turned back. "Don't be late, Effie."

She liked the way her name sounded in his lips. With a weak smile, she said she wouldn't. He left and she resumed her walk back home.

* * *

Effie needed to wash up the filth and sweat of that hot day. Ignoring her mother's protests, she passed trough Pieter's and went home, directly to the bathroom. She filled the bathtub with hot water and lied there enjoying the warm, relaxing her skin.

That's when Cleitus walked in, a hungry look in his face. Effie would've jumped if she wasn't naked. Instead, she brought her knees close to her body and braced herself defensively.

"What are you doing?" she shouted.

"I didn't know you were here," he lied without much effort. He really was a disgusting little man. Looking at him now, she couldn't believe her mother would live with this monsters. She couldn't believe she'd let him father her children.

Effie let her attitude surface. "Well, I am. So leave!"

"Watch you mouth, little girl," he growled taking a step toward the bathtub. That was exactly what he wanted, wasn't it? A reason. A simple one. To touch her. Even if it was to harm her.

Well, she wouldn't let him.

"If you don't get out, I'll scream!"

They studied each other for an eternal minute. His sloth bearded face looked like something that was once maybe _not so hideous_. But there was so much bad intent in there Effie could scarcely believe Cleitus had nice thoughts inside that big head of his.

 _He could dare touch her,_ she thought full of rage. _She could definitely take him._ He looked pretty drunk. Maybe a punch in the face and he would black out.

Then Effie's mom appeared preventing any physical fighting. The woman was suddenly a sight for sore eyes. Effie felt immensely grateful. Although she wouldn't admit to anyone, Cleitus scared her. Now she was safe.

"What is happening in here?" her mother demanded, her hands in her waist in that motherly way of hers.

Cleitus looked dumbstruck, like he wasn't sure what he was doing anymore.

"He walked in on me!" Effie accused while she had the chance.

"I didn't know she was in here!"

"Liar!"

"You better teach this girl some manners, Aurelia," he said returning to his usual self. "Or I will."

Then Effie made what might've been her biggest mistake. She actually _did_ get up. Water splashed everywhere and for the briefest of moments she didn't care she was naked. That's how angry she was. Pointing a finger at his ugly face, she made her final threat, "Touch me and I'll kill you!"

Cleitus admired what he was seeing – _what can I say?_ The man was obviously a visionary. Then he lunged toward the young girl, whether to attack her or do something worse Effie didn't know because her mother intervened stepping in between the both of them.

"Enough, already!" She grabbed a towel and threw it at Effie. "Cover yourself, silly girl. And you, Cleitus, honey, wait for me in the other room. I'll be right there. Just need a moment with Effie."

It seemed to take every ounce of control but Cleitus tore his eyes away from Effie and left them in the bathroom. Aurelia closed the door and turned to face her daughter, face full of anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she spat.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with him!"

"Why didn't you lock the door?"

Now _that_ was marvelous. Suddenly it was Effie's fault that guy was a pedophile.

"He hasn't fixed the lock yet, mom! And he'll keep delaying it. Or haven't you noticed? You know why he's doing this!"

"He is your father!"

"He is not my father!"

Miss Aurelia's hands shook. "You can't keep doing this, Effie. This is not your house. You need to behave properly! We live here because he lets us-"

"He lets us? It's his house now? His? Because all I see it's us paying rent. He hasn't lift a finger to take care of us. Don't you dare use that card against me. It won't work."

Her mother hesitated obviously too angry to speak. Then her voice turned calmer and colder. "You need to understand, Effie. I will make you understand if I have to."

"Understand what?"

"That... That you're not a child anymore! You've grown. And you keep walking up and down in those short summer dresses-"

Effie stepped away from her mother like she had been slapped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "It's _my_ fault?"

Her mother swallowed. "When you have a husband of your own, you'll understand, Effie. It's in their nature."

"I'd rather die alone than marry someone like Cleitus," she swore. And she meant it.

"You say that now. But one day you'll see, Effie. You'll see that it's much better to have a man like Cleitus than having none."

Effie doubted that day would ever come, but Miss Aurelia didn't stick around to argue. She had a husband to please.

* * *

Now, her memories of that night weren't so good: she tried so damn hard to block them out she might've succeeded.

I'll tell you what happened, but it might be missing a few essencial details.

After putting her little sister to bed in the other room, Effie went to her own to get ready to go meet Haymitch. Nothing very specific was crossing her mind. She was slightly wondering what that boy would be up to. It didn't occur to her, not once, that she wouldn't be meeting him that night.

A very different fate awaited her – one named Cleitus.

He came swinging into her room, a dope smile covering his ugly face. "Little mouse," he muttered making her jump.

"Good Lord, Cleitus, if you keep sneaking up on me I'll punch you in the throat," she said only half serious, strangely aware of his presence, but so far not worried about it. She was leaving. She wouldn't sleep here anyway. She'd probably stay in the clearing with Haymitch until the sun was up again.

"Do it then," Cleitus laughed weirdly loud. "And I'll show you how they did things in my household when I was a boy."

Effie turned around. He still had that dope smile. It wasn't exactly different from his usual ridiculous face expression, but there was a glint in his eyes that was out of the ordinary, even for him.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, trying to make sense of things.

"I'm happy," he countered. And it was only when he turned to lock the door that Effie realized something wasn't right. A twinge of worry made her body stiffen.

"What are you doing?"

Cleitus didn't bothered answering. He just pounced. He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her against the wall. Effie was about to scream when he clapped a hand over her mouth. "No need for that, little mouse. I won't hurt you. I promise."

But it turned out his promises meant nothing after all. And what he did to her I can't quite put into words.

When he lied on top of her, he weight crushed her lungs. He was too heavy and too strong for her to fight him. He kept her hands above her head where she couldn't stab him in the eyes with her nails. And struggling only made everything hurt that much more so eventually she just stopped.

Effie tried to think of anything but what was happening to her. Out there in the world, a selection was happening and someone thought her worthy of it. Someone thought she was gorgeous. Someone said her face could represent the country. Someone who seemed like a prince from a far away dream.

Effie tried to look anywhere except Cleitus's face. She could feel the tears on her cheeks but everything felt surreal. Cleitus made grunting noises and sweat all over her. She couldn't breathe he was so heavy!

In the end she couldn't take him. She couldn't do anything to defend herself.

And he kept repeating the same things, over and over. How she had asked for this, she had wanted it, that's why she had shown herself to him in the bathroom. He even said the _next_ time it wouldn't hurt so bad, it would get better, she would enjoy it.

 _If you didn't do it to me in the first place then it wouldn't hurt at all_ , she thought to herself. But she was too frightened by his actions to say a thing in objection. He might not have heard a thing, but in her head Effie was screaming.

 _I AM NOT OKAY._

 _THIS IS NOT OKAY._

 _Why are you doing this to me?_

 _What does it mean?_

One thought only kept her from screaming out loud: her sister. Ingrid, that small little girl, only nine years old. Somehow, Effie's mind made her think that this was for the best. Him taking her was better than him going after Ingrid. At least while he was with Effie, Ingrid was safe. Right?

Finally - _finally_ \- Cleitus let out a giant grunt and collapsed on top of her.

Effie couldn't do anything.

She couldn't move.

She was bleeding.

She was scared.

She cried herself to sleep, alone, and then she woke up crying as well.

* * *

So this one is a little darker, I know. But we all knew this was coming.

The story will move faster from here though. Enjoy it.


	3. Tre

Effie stayed where she was until the sun had rose. She laid staring at the ceiling. She didn't know how long it'd been. Effie felt sorry for that little who hadn't quite known people were capable of monstrous things. She felt so small, so vulnerable, so powerless. That little girl had just died and it didn't seem like there was anything left.

When Mrs Aurelia entered that room looking for her daughter it was almost noon and Effie hadn't moved a muscle. She was still cowering against the wall, like trying to get inside of it, naked, hair glued to her face and unfocused eyes.

Mrs Aurelia let out a cry but she sounded more angry than anything else. "What have you done?" she shouted and shouted.

Almost inconspicuously, still not seeing her mother, Effie muttered to herself: "I didn't do anything."

Aurelia kept shouting but Effie could barely hear her. She grabbed the sheets and wrapped around her daughter. "Effie, what have you done?" she insisted. The tears in her eyes were the only clue of her misery. "How many times did I ask you? I asked you! I begged you not to provoke him! You should've listened to me. He's your father, Effie! And now look what he's done!"

"He's not my father," Effie remembered to say.

"Why do you-" Aurelia stopped herself. "Am I to do now? What should I do? And if people find out? What am I gonna say?"

Effie's eyes started to work again. She focused on her mother and she saw, _for the first time ever_ , that this woman wasn't concerned for her. Surely, she felt bad for Effie. She never wanted that to happen to her. But she didn't care, not nearly enough. Aurelia was afraid of losing Cleitus. She feared being alone. She feared for herself only.

That was a good thing to realize because it was the only thing that could wake Effie up.

It was amazing how that manipulation had worked for so many years. Effie never even noticed. It never felt like she was being manipulated. Even now. But in the emptiness she felt, Effie could finally see it. Finally! Although she was wrecked inside, at least now she was also free from whatever influence they had on her.

Effie stood up shakily. "What are you doing?" the mother demanded. Effie ignored her. She opened the wardrobe and put on the first clothes she found. Then she marched into the kitchen where Ingrid was finishing her homework.

The little girl's eyes widened when she saw her; _Effie must've looked terrible._ "What-"

"You're coming with me." Effie took her hand and pulled her along. Ingrid didn't protest. They were almost at the door when Aurelia caught up.

"What are you doing, Effie? Where are you going? Leave your sister out of this!"

"We're leaving."

"What? Where? Quit being dumb."

Effie opened the door and walked out without looking back.

"You can't just leave!" Mrs Aurelia shouted.

"Where are we going?" Ingrid asked, following the wide steps of her sister.

"Far away from here," Effie told her. She was through with living with other people's demands and wants. She felt guilty where there should be no guilt. _It wasn't supposed to be like this._ These weren't her plans. Something had to be done about it.

Ingrid, before bed, liked to hear stories about princes and fairy godmothers. She had always wanted a dress made out of gold and glass slippers. She wanted to be a princess - _hadn't that been Effie's dream once too?_ Yes, Effie remembered being nine years old and obsessed with finding out who her dad was. She would wonder if maybe he was a prince. That would explain why he couldn't live with them because of his many duties to his country. But she'd been certain that someday he'd send someone to get Effie, to bring her to live with him in a palace of beautiful things.

When she had turned twelve, Effie had understood there were no princes. Not in this world. No one cared about duties to their country and no one would come for her.

But someone _had_ come, she saw now. Sixteen years old Effie came to the conclusion that Plutarch Heavensbee could indeed be the prince charming she'd been waiting for.

She went to find him at the inn where he was staying. Plutarch looked surprised - worried even - but received her becomingly. Effie explained she was ready now: if he still wanted her, she'd go to the Capitol with him, tonight. Plutarch was beside himself with joy, but said arrangements had to be made. It would take at least-

"It has to be today," Effie stopped him. "If it can't be now, it has to be in a few hours. I want to leave now."

He hesitated, intrigued but didn't ask questions. "Surely there are people you want to say goodbye to, Miss Trinket."

The only person who crossed Effie's mind was Haymitch and she didn't even know why. She didn't like him that much. Although, considering she didn't like anyone in particular, maybe it could be true she liked him more than anyone else.

"No," she decided. "Let's just go."

Plutarch nodded, pulled an electronic device from his pocket, pressed some buttons, brought the thing to his ear and began talking to himself. "Yes, she has agreed. We want to leave immediately. How long until the train arrives? Thank you." He turned back to Effie. "An hour. Do you need to pack anything?"

Effie shook her head violently. "I have nothing. It's just me and Ingrid."

Plutarch made weird face like he had just now noticed the little girl. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Trinket, but… I don't think you can-"

"She's going with us."

Plutarch licked his lips. "She can't go anywhere without her parents."

"Why not? I'm a minor too."

"But you'll sign a agreement binding you to me. She can't do that."

Effie's hands were shaking. What would she do now? She couldn't leave Ingrid behind. Not with that monster. And Effie couldn't stay either or she might die.

"Please…" she asked him. "I need her. We only have each other. I can't leave her."

Plutarch seemed uncomfortable at her despair. He offered to make tea and went toward the stove. Effie looked at her sister. "It'll be fine," Ingrid said. "If you win, you'll be rich. Then you can come get me."

That sounded strangely like Effie's dreams. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to explain about the monster. But this was the only chance she had. Without the money, they'd never be free of Cleitus. Ingrid would never be safe. It was all or nothing, she got it. But if she left Ingrid with Cleitus, wouldn't he do to her what he'd done to Effie? Could she risk it? Wouldn't she regret it?

Ingrid was small for her age. _Maybe that would keep her safe for another year or two._ But that didn't stop Effie's stomach from twisting like mad.

An hour later, the train arrived at the station and people gathered around trying to find out what was going on. A photographer jumped out of the train and came toward Effie clicking the button frenetically. Effie was almost blinded by the flashes.

 _Ingrid was her only comfort and Effie couldn't take her with her._

Even with those lights flashing at her face, Effie was able to make out some faces in the crowd. Margaret Stewart, who was Effie's age, was glaring at her in rage. Another girl that went to school with them, whose name Effie couldn't remember, waved enthusiastically.

Plutarch formally announced Effie Trinket was on her way to the Capitol to be the thirteenth member of the Metamorphosis Program. If she won, her entire district would be rewarded with enough food equivalent to a year of harvest. Effie turned to face him so fast her neck cracked.

 _Was he serious?_ Was that possible? He'd never mentioned that before. If he had… Would Effie have agreed sooner? Would she have made the sacrifice for her people instead of be running away from her stepfather?

The people whistled and clapped and cheered. Effie felt the weight of all that hit her. Now she was their hope. Now they were on her side. Effie looked at Plutarch and moved her lips, slowly forming the words thank you without making a sound. He gave a nod in return.

Effie had the notion of being filthy, miserable and horrible. But she was suddenly determined to make things right too. She raised her chin. She wasn't just running anymore; _she had a purpose_. She was the chosen girl from District 12. She the highest of the lowest.

The mayor, whom Plutarch had called, showed up smiling from ear to ear. He signed for people to quiet down so he could speak. Then he made a charming speech like he'd always known Effie would be the pride of their society.

That's when Aurelia appeared. She faced her daughter like she couldn't recognize her. Cleitus was beside her, his face contorted with anger. Aurelia approached in hard steps and took Ingrid's hand from Effie's. She didn't say anything, not a word, and neither did Effie. There was nothing to say. They'd both made their choices.

Effie's heart tightened as she watched Ingrid to be dragged away. She couldn't bare being without her. She couldn't stand it. But she also didn't have a choice. When she thought she would collapse to the floor, crying desperately, Plutarch took her hand and squeezed it. Once more, Effie glanced at him with gratitude.

When she returned her eyes to the people, she saw Haymitch, farther away, on top of that same wall where all this had started. Effie didn't think she'd get to see him before leaving. She immediately wished she hadn't. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure about leaving. She could stay. She could go to him. She could at least…

 _Where were these feelings coming from? What did they mean?_

Haymitch was like a bronze statue. Effie couldn't read his expression. Was he worried? Angry? Sad? She had never gone meet him, Effie realized. She had never explained to him.

Whatever he or she felt, it was too late now.

Plutarch, who was still holding her hand, pulled Effie inside the train.


	4. Quattro

Effie glued her face to the train window, trying to keep her eyes on her sister for a little longer. Then she was left there, sitting in the fancy cabin without paying any attention to the comforts around her, feeling only the fear of finally being alone off to an unfamiliar place with people who were nothing but strangers to her.

Plutarch tried to hard to be kind, and every five minutes he and Fulvia, his secretary, came to check if Effie was well. She was offered tea, coffee, juice, toast... _Maybe a hot bath? A comfortable bed?_

But Effie wasn't listening. She was stuck in the mental state Cleitus had left her last night, perfectly aware that there was nothing in the world that could make her feel better. Except maybe—

"It is true?" she finally spoke. Plutarch looked at her with interest. "What you said at the station? If I win this contest... Are you going to feed District 12?"

Plutarch motioned for Fulvia. She took an envelope from the table, brought out some papers and handed them to Effie. "It's all there, the rules. President Snow's orders. He'll deal personally with the winner. All you have to do, Miss Trinket, is sign it." He pulled a gold-plated pen from his coat pocket and offered it to Effie.

She took the pen and looked at the papers. Could it be that a paper with some writing on it could really change the lives of so many people? And hers in particular? Effie focused on what the contract said — the competition tests were individual and were worth points in the form of votes for the runners. The girl one with fewer points at the end of each test, would be eliminated and would have the choice to stay in the Capital or return home with nothing. At the end of the contest, the top three selected would receive votes from the audience that would decide the winner.

"As soon as you sign it, you'll become our property for as long as the contest lasts," said Fulvia, who was rather rude.

Effie's heart raced — she didn't like the idea of being owned by anyone. Wasn't that just the kind of thing Cleitus would say to justify his actions? Had coming been a terrible choice? Was she going somewhere even worse than the place she was leaving behind? Was that even possible?

"What does that mean?" she asked, fearing the answer.

Fulvia shrugged her bony shoulders. "You'll have to take care of yourself. If you fail to follow the rules (they are detailed on the other sheet), you will be eliminated and sent home. Nothing much."

 _Nothing much for her who lived in the Capitol with all the comforts that money could afford._

"You'll have to take these vitamins," she handed Effie a bottle of purple pills. "You're very thin, you need the nutrients. You'll see how your skin, your hair, your digestion, everything will improve. One per day." She consulted an electronic device. "As soon as we get to the Capitol, you'll be to see a doctor, to find out if you need any special attention, if you have any problem, that sort of thing."

"We need you to understand the rules before anything else," Plutarch said, still with that curious look on his face. "Things will be pretty simple."

They waited for Effie to give a sign that she was listening, then Fulvia continued: "You will not be allowed to leave the complex unaccompanied, anywhere. I can't stress that enough, Miss Trinket. People will cheer for the girls, but there will also be those who desire to eliminate the competition."

Effie didn't like the way Fulvia said _eliminate_ but she remained silent.

"The only person who _can_ eliminate you from the contest, in case you are not the competitor with the least votes, will be President Snow. He has full authority to sent home anyone he doesn't like."

 _He_ sounded like an idiot. Effie had watched Snow's elections, even though she wasn't old enough to participate. It had happened two years ago, and he had been the youngest elected president in the history of Panem, only twenty-seven years old. His promises seemed fair at the time and no one hesitated to vote for him, but in his two years of service, Snow had yet to take action to end the hunger in the poorer districts.

"While no one expects you to get along with the other contestants, you are strictly forbidden to quarrel with them physically — and here, I warn you, that verbally quarreling isn't advisable either —, or try to sabotage them during the contest. If you're caught trying to harm your competitors, it'll be in the hands of Snow to punish you. The girl who has the most votes in each test, shall be awarded with special prizes, such as tours of the Capitol or other districts, and you can even bring a companion, anyone of your choice. "

"Like your sister," Plutarch said with an encouraging smile.

"You may not wear any clothing that has not been specifically made for you on our orders," she gestured to herself and Plutarch, "just as you may not opine on what you should wear throughout the contest. And most importantly: on weekends there will always be some event or other, Miss. Trinket, and your presence will be imperative. Dances, dinners, interviews, no matter what, you will attend wearing costumes of our choice and you will be courteous and attentive to everyone you meet until you become the face of Panem. Any questions?"

"No." That final part, although extremelly serious, was what Effie had expected which made it easy to bear.

Plutarch jumped to his feet and clapped his hands. "Perfect, now you sign it."

* * *

Effie was left alone after that. And that was how she wished to stay, because soon after signing the contract the tears began to come. She had thought she had no more tears inside her — _hadn't she cried them all already?_ — but she'd been wrong. It still hurt. Everything still hurt.

She wondered if any of the other girls had cried in the train to the Capitol. Was it only her? Only her struggling to remain whole while leaving all traces of familiarity behind?

As the train slowed, bright light flooded the compartment, and Effie lifted her head. There it was — _the Capitol, the ruling city of Panem_.

The cameras had not lied about its greatness; it was possible they hadn't captured it in its entirety. The magnificence of the buildings shimmering in a rainbow of colors that rose in the air, the gleaming cars that passed through the wide paved streets, the people who dressed in strange ways, with bizarre hairstyles, their faces painted, and who had never experienced hunger in their lifetime.

All the colors looked artificial, the pink was too deep, the green too bright, the yellow painful to the eyes. People began to point and wave at her. Quickly, Effie took a step away from the window, feeling nauseated, and went to take refuge behind the bar, from where she only came out when the train entered the station, blocking her from sight.

It was time to be strong. She couldn't let them see her cry. The good things in her life were being left behind, but so were the bad. And Effie had to make room for new things. Pain and fear would have no place in this adventure. Cleitus would cease to exist. She would not mention his name — nor think it. He was not welcome here. That was the only rule she was needed to follow.

Fulvia came running to meet Effie and uttered a muffled shriek: "You didn't even wash? Go now! You can't get off this train in this state!" She made Effie take a shower and then brought her a simple green dress and matching flats. "Well, at least you're clean," she said, not knowing what to do with Effie's hair.

Plutarch appeared. "Well, everyone already knows who's District 12′s competitor. They're thrilled to have a look at you. You ready?"

Effie let go of who she was and made room for who she needed to be. "Yes". But when the doors opened, she realized she'd been mistaken again. The screams were deafening, the lights made her dizzy — there was a lot of people waiting to welcome her; she had not been ready for that.

An aisle had been improvised so she could pass in between the crowd that cheered and jumped and waved. Every twenty feet there were guards to keep them in line.

Hesitantly, Effie took a step forward and raised her hand to wave back. Immediately, she knew that had been the right choice. She had to turn her head from side to side — _everyone was calling her name!_ They reached out to touch her arms and hands as she walked by. They raised stylized flags saying DISTRICT 12 and handmade posters with her name on it. They loved her without ever having met her.

In the right corner, Effie found a little girl that reminded her of Ingrid. She wanted an autograph. At her side, an older woman wanted to shake Effie's hand. Behind her, a man asked to kiss her hand and some others wanted to give her roses. Effie did as they required, tried to please them, gave them smiles and sent air kisses back. It was as if a robot had taken hold of her body. Her actions were almost programmed, in spite of how much she wanted to run away and hide.

She stayed a good half an hour at the station. Plutarch and Fulvia seemed to approve. Effie left with them, carrying what had now turned into a bouquet, completely and absolutely shocked of having survived all of that.

Thinking about the cameras and their flashes, Effie wondered if Ingrid would be watching all that — and if so, would she be proud and also cheering for Effie? After all, it was all for her.


	5. Cinque

Effie was examined from head to toe by a man called Thelonius, the official nutritionist who would be tending the girls of the Metamorphosis. He said that if she had any problems, she just had to find to him. His verdict was: she was healthy, even though she felt far from it. But Thelonius chose not to mention the marks on her thighs and abdomen (weather because he was gracious or simply didn't care) and merely gave her a cream that would supposedly clear her skin right up.

Afterwards, Plutarch took her to the Big House, where all the girls would be staying, since the President was the one covering for all the costs of the event. There were a lot of photographers there, and some reporters: Plutarch decided to give an interview telling how he had discovered Effie in the obscurities of District 12; but there was no sign of Snow.

Plutarch really seemed to have been born for that sort of thing — he was 100% comfortable even with all those flashes in his face. He would smile showing perfect teeth at the end of each of his sentences. Sometimes he'd run his hand through his hair to make sure it looked wavy and soft. Whenever this happened, his white shirt would tighten around his arm, making his muscles visible.

He was indeed enjoying himself so much that Effie decided to leave him there. She walked down the hall and came face to face with two girls chattering happily. When they saw Effie, the two of them shrieked and came toward her, immediately pulling Effie for a hug, catching her by surprise.

"You're number 12!" one of them shouted. "I'm number 4. Giovanna," she clarified. She was lengthy, a head taller than Effie, and although her hair looked blond, Effie guessed it was not her natural color. Her eyes were brown with honey so intense it made them look yellow. She was a bit cheeky — the kind of girl who had probably never starved. "Call me Gia."

"And I'm Antonietta Gonsalis," said the other girl, a redhead with round, blue eyes — much bluer than Effie's would ever be. She looked frail near Gia. "I came from 5." As much as Antonietta's face made it clear that she was genuinely happy to meet Effie, Effie could not help but feel that these girls were her adversaries.

There was no need to introduce herself; the other two had been waiting for her.

"I like your hair," Effie told Antonietta. There were no redheads in District 12 and everyone believed that having red hair was a sign of good fortune. Antonietta thanked her for the comment, but she was a quiet girl and didn't seem very much into talking, which wasn't a problem since Gia was jabbering.

She asked Effie a thousand questions. She wanted to know everything about District 12, she wanted to know everything about Plutarch, she wanted to know everything about Effie. What she liked, what she hated, if she had a boyfriend, if she would like one, what would she do with the money if she won the Metamorphosis, and so on. Antonietta giggled here and there, but seemed glad to let Gia speak for the two of them.

Effie liked Gia and thought that, in a worst case scenario, she could leave this contest with a friend — her first girlfriend. They sat there talking for half an hour, and Plutarch was still talking to the press.

"Oh, he's gorgeous, don't you think?" Gia changed the subject abruptly, admiring Plutarch's graceful movements. "My sponsor says he doesn't want to stay in this business forever. It seems he dreams bid. They say he's going to run for the next election. Honestly, I don't know who I'll vote for. He and Snow are equally foxy."

"Don't mind her," Antonietta said to Effie, rolling her eyes. "She has no idea what she's talking about."

"Oh yes, I do," Gia argued. "I'm talking about men who are smoking."

Effie looked down at her own feet — men was not a subject she wished to engage into. When she lifted them back up, Effie saw a girl so beautiful that she swore she was a mirage. She looked like an angel: thin, tall, with a tiny waist, large breasts, gentle eyes and full lips. She was accompanied by a blonde, who looked like a barbie wearing sunglasses and thin-heeled shoes, that walked in a straight line of confidence.

"Ahh," said Gia, noting Effie's interest. "1 and 2. Lavinia Amata and Thirza Apophis. The crowd's favorite, and the devil from hell."

"She is really mean," Antonietta agreed, casting a disgusted look at Thirza. "But Lavinia can be kind for a 1."

"She's so elegant." Gia tilted her head to see better. "From the first time I saw her, she was nothing but nice. Everybody likes her. She's definitely going to be the hardest to beat."

"Girls, girls," Plutarch came swinging toward them. "You can't think like that." He smiled mischievously. "You know, I'm supposed to only advise my dear Miss Trinket, however I'm going to make an exception since you're treating her so well. Don't think you need to beat each other. Just be yourselves. That's what you're here for. That's why you were chosen. You're already special. All you have to do is keep at it."

Gia liked her lips. "Thank you so much, Mr. Heavensbee. I will take that into account when trying to please... uh, certain people."

Plutarch didn't seem to mind her flirty look. "It's as it should be."

Antonietta sighed. "That's right. And it's hard not to like Lavinia. But Thirza, on the other hand—"

Gia's eyes widened. "I know, right? Impossible. I've been here for two days and she's almost convinced me to drop everything and go back home, just so I don't have to stand her for another minute."

Antonietta nodded. "I don't like to speak badly about anyone, but she's so... aggressive! And the Metamorphosis hasn't even started yet... Do you have any idea of the monster that's going to spring from there?"

Plutarch, to everyone's amusement , laughed. "Don't worry, ladies. That kind of girl? They pull themselves out of the competition. Ah, excuse me a little bit." And he hurried across the lobby to where Fulvia was beckoning to him.

"Why can't my sponsor be that cool and that hot?" Gia shook her head. "Twenty-six years old... I'll be twenty-three next month..."

Plutarch then came running back and said he needed Effie. She waved at the other girls and followed him. Fulvia was waiting on the other side, accompanied by a small man in a suit, whom she introduced as Teumar.

Meals would happen in the hall to the right, Teumar informed Effie, and to the left was a staircase that led to the ballroom, which on occasion would be used for dances.

"Your room is the twelfth of the second floor, as expected," he forced a smile. "It's good that you like it, because you'll be spending a lot of time in there. The third floor is strictly forbidden, since that's where the President lives. The garden can be accessed through the back doors, here downstairs, but only during certain hours of the day. Through the front door, you can't go through without the Mr. Heavensbee. Now, we urgently need to fix you up," he said. "POLLUX! CASTOR!" He called in.

Two identical men came rushing in, carrying a briefcase with them.

"These two will be your assistants throughout the contest, Miss Trinket. You can ask of them whatever you wish. For example, now, we want to improve your image."

Effie cast a confused glance at Plutarch who stroked his chin. "We will not change anything about Miss Trinket," he decided, his eyes on her. "The whole potential is here. I can see it — her face, the face of Panem. That's why I chose her."

Teumar pouted. "Fine. We don't change anything. We simply... enhance it."

So Effie went through a process Teumar called _beautification_ : hair, makeup, nails. Waxing, creams and oils to the skin, and as a plus, a good foot massage. All this happened in a private room on the ground floor, which looked more like a dressing room. When the whole process came to an end, Teumar asked Pollux and Castor to take Effie to the bedroom where she'd be staying.

Finally alone, Effie collapsed on the canopy bed — and couldn't even appreciate the comfort of something she had never experienced. Suddenly, the traumas of the last twenty-four hours came over her. Effie shrunk within herself, closing like an oyster, trying to put aside — and not being able to — everything that had happened to her.

Now she was in a better place, she tried to remind herself. Now no one else would hurt her.

 _Now she was free._

But it was hard to think like this when she'd just signed a contract that made property to another man. And she was staying in this house, in this mansion, where she didn't belong, where she had to follow a million rules... It was almost as if she hadn't left 12...

The pain didn't leave her in peace and soon merged with the longing that Effie already felt for Ingrid. There was nothing she could do but cry and search for that little gleam of faith that promised things would be alright.


End file.
